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THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 







Successful Rural Plays 

A Strong List From Which to Select Your 
Next Play 

FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
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easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a 
farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New 
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and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. 
Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by 
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HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubbs. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two 
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acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr". Tubbs 
has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter 
Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son 
of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. 
She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. 
When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave 
Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- 
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he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. 

THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New 

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in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of 
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THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy 
in Three . Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four 
females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- 
terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money 
from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's 
niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the 
wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting 
and novel. Price, 15 cents. 

A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in 
Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four 
females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 
One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a 
country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which 
results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker 
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THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 



Proposal Number Seven 

A Comedy in Two Acts 



By 
MARGARET C. GETCHELL 




PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1918 






Copyright 191 8 by The Penn Publishing Company 



Proposal Number Seven 

APR 2 1918 

C)ran 4^4 <i 
TMP92-009288 



Proposal Number Seven 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Dr. Randolph Miner . private doctor for Mrs. Stanton- 

Maynard 

Sears Quinham f England 

Henry Hopkins an art student 

Eleanor Merrill 

Jsabelle Burbank ... an art student 

Jane Orr 

Marie • . . Mrs. Stanton- May nard's maid 

Darius ...... a native of Maine 

Time of Playing. — One hour. 



STORY OF THE PLAY 

Some of Dr. Randolph Miner's friends fear that he is get- 
ting into the habit of proposing to every nice girl he meets. 
They decide that it is time to cure him. It is agreed that 
the girl who next receives an offer shall accept him and re- 
main engaged for one week. Eleanor is the " lucky " one. 
"Oh, Randolph, I am so happy !" Congratulations. 
" You look hot, old man." A week later. Eleanor breaks 
the engagement and tells Randolph the reason. Randolph 
has really fallen in love with Eleanor, and tries to convince 
her. « Did you try that on the other girls? " Two young 
canoeists are in danger. Randolph and Darius to the rescue. 
Eleanor discovers that she cares for Randolph. "And I 
pretended not to believe him ! " The canoeists are saved, 
and everything ends happily. 

This play is published for amateur use only. Professionals 
are forbidden to use it except with permission of the author, 
who may be addressed in care of the publishers. 



COSTUMES 

Dr. Randolph Miner. About twenty-six. Speaks 
with a slow, Southern drawl. Wears a summer out- 
ing suit, white flannel trousers, dark coat, etc., in both 
acts. 

Sears Qui n ham. Twenty-five. Has a strongly 
marked English accent, but is not dandified. Wears 
an outing suit of extreme English cut. 

Henry Hopkins. About twenty-six. Inclined to 
be blase and cynical. He affects the artistic in clothes ; 
loose blouse, flowing black tie, etc. 

Eleanor Merrill. About twenty-two. Attractive. 
Wears light summer dress in Acts I and II. 

Isabelle Burbank. About twenty- three. Like 
Hopkins, she affects the artistic ; wears cretonne blouse 
and tam-o'-shanter. She is rather languid and lack- 
adaisical. 

Jane Orr. About twenty. Wears white skirt and 
middy blouse in both acts. She is small, jolly and " a 
good sport." 

Marie. About twenty. Wears a plain black dress 
with white apron, cap with streamers, etc. She speaks 
with French accent, shrugs and gestures. 

Darius. About thirty. Wears overalls, rough 
shirt, soft hat. A typical country man. He is very 
slow in his actions and drawls all his words. 



PROPERTIES 
ACT I 

Six bottles of soft drinks. Six glasses. 
Paint boxes, stools, umbrellas, large bottle of turpen- 
tine for Hopkins. 

Paint rag for Isabelle. 

Flower for Marie. 

Truck and small trunk for Darius. 

Ring for Eleanor. 

ACT II 

Small bottle of turpentine and rag for Quinham. 
Small jeweler's box for Miner. 
Oars and bunch of daisies for Darius. 
Bathrobe and rubbers for Quinham. 



SCENE PLOT 



Acts I and II 

exren/on. i?ack//vg tf^TEnioK &*ci</ng 

£xtr ro TJOAJ> £X/T TO HOTEL 




Scene. — A hotel piazza. Wicker table and three 
chairs down l. Small table at exit up R., to road. 
Exit up l. to hotel. An easy chair down r. A small 
stool at l. of easy chair. Exterior backing at door up 
r. Interior backing at door up l. If exits in the rear 
drop are impracticable, they may be placed r. and l. 

5 



Proposal Number Seven 



ACT I 

SCENE. — A hotel piazza. 

{Discovered: Eleanor sits at r. of table; Jane at R. 
Quinham stands behind it.) 

Quinham {who talks with an English accent). 
Theah ! Six bottles and six glasses ! Three for our- 
selves and three for our absent friends. When I asked 
at the post-office for soft drinks, they named over such 
a long list that I really was quite at a loss to know 
which to order. So I just said one of each until I had 
six. 

Jane. Very clever idea ! 

Quinham. Yes, do you know, I thought so, too. 
Now, what will you have? {Reading names on bot- 
tles.) Sarsaparilla, birch beer, orange phosphate, 
ginger ale, moxie, and strawberry soda. 

Jane. Something with a kick in it, if you are ask- 
ing me. 

Quinham {puzzled). I beg your pawdon? With 
a kick? 

Jane. Yes, — such as ginger ale, for example. 
' Quinham. Oh, I see. Very well, ginger ale. 
{Looking at bottles.) Strawberry soda, moxie, ginger 
ale — here it is. {Opens bottle, starts to pour it in 
glass, but stops suddenly, holding bottle and glass 
in mid-air, his eyes fixed on his sleeve.) Oh, 
horrors ! 

Girls {jumping up in alarm). What's the matter? 

Quinham. Look at that, will you ? 



O PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Eleanor (l. of Quinham). Isn't the ginger ale 
all right? 

Jane (r. of Quinham). It isn't spoiled, is it? 

Quinham {at back of table). No, on my sleeve. 
It's that beastly paint again ! 

(Eleanor leans over to look at outstretched arm, 
Jane stands on tiptoe and peeps over to see the 
other side.) 

Jane {sitting down r. of table, in disgust). Oh, is 
that all? I thought there was something wrong with 
the ginger ale. 

Quinham {coming down c, indignantly). Is that 
all ? Indeed you wouldn't speak so lightly of it if you 
had had three suits daubed with the bally stuff in three 
days. Now what can I do about it? At this rate I'll 
be reduced to a bathing suit by the time I have been 
here two weeks. 

Eleanor {at l. of table, calmly). I should suggest 
that the first thing would be to set down the ginger ale 
and the glass. Then we'll see if we can help you. I 
don't dare touch it until you do for fear of causing 
another accident. 

Quinham. By Jove, that's a jolly good idea! 
{Comes to table l. between Jane and Eleanor, sets 
down bottle and glass.) Now, ladies, proceed. 

{Holds out arm between them.) 

Eleanor. Maybe it will rub off. 

{Starts to rub sleeve with her handkerchief.) 

Jane {jumping up r. of table, giggling). Let's try 
ginger ale. My aunt says that's a fine cure for sea- 
sickness so 

{Takes out colored handkerchief, pours ginger ale on 
it and goes to rubbing. Business of pulling arm 
from one to the other.) 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 9 

' Quinham {excitedly, trying to gesticulate; girls 
pull his arm down each time). It's bad enough to find 
a summer resort so overrun with art students that you 
can't even sit down to look at the surf or the ocean 
without having some miserable painter squat in front 
of you and open his enormous sea-green umbrella be- 
tween you and the ocean ; but when, on top of that, you 
are haunted by the consciousness that you are sitting 
in a rainbow of paint, you know, I say, it's more than 
a man can be expected to endure ! 

Jane (excitedly). Oh, Mr. Ouinham, I think it's 
getting lighter. 

Eleanor. No, it isn't, Jane. It's just getting a 
little dispersed. 

Ouinham. Red! Sunday it was blue, Monday 
green, to-day red. Now what do you suppose it will 
be to-morrow? 

(Enter Hopkins and Isabelle, up r., with paint boxes, 
stools, umbrellas, etc. Hopkins carries a large 
bottle of turpentine. He dumps all the parapher- 
nalia up r. and deposits the bottle of turpentine on 
the small table at the l. of the door. Isabelle 
strolls down l. c. to Jane.) 

Hopkins (coming down l. a). Hello! Well, 
what the dickens (Girls stop.) 

Ouinham (at table). Yes, it's all very well for 
you to say " what the dickens " now. 

Jane (down r. at table). Yes, now, when the deed 
is done and repentance helps not. 

Eleanor (l. of table). If your ears burn, lay it 
to us. 

Hopkins (l. a). Why, what's the matter? 

Ouinham. ) 

Jane. V Matter! Paint! 

Eleanor. ) 

Isabelle (l. a). Oh, Hal, where is that bottle of 
turpentine I just bought? (Hopkins goes up r. to 
table, gets the turpentine, comes dozun l. c. He then 
goes back of table l. and gives it to her.) You know, 



ID PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

young ladies, turpentine is generally considered 
superior to ginger ale as a paint remover. 

(She crowds in between Jane and Quinham. Jane 
pouts and goes to Hopkins behind table l., takes 
paint rag and turpentine and pulls Quinham with 
her to c. and rubs his sleeve.) 

Hopkins (at back of table, has been reading labels 
on bottles). We seem to have a pretty good collec- 
tion ; what will you have, girls ? 

(Eleanor and Jane sit at table; Eleanor l., Jane r., 
and choose what they want; he pours it out. They 
talk together.) 

Quinham (to Isabelle, l. c). I know jolly little 
about painting, but do you know, Miss Burbank, there 
is one question that is perplexing me a good deal. 

Isabelle (c). What is that? 

Quinham. Well, you know, Sunday, when I got 
blue paint on my white flannels, I said to myself: 
" Why, there's the ocean, blue as can be — not to men- 
tion the sky — so that is really not surprising." 

Isabelle (continuing to rub Quinham's sleeve). 
No, not at all. 

Quinham. Then, Monday, it was green. Well, 
there are the trees and the grass, so that was perfectly 
natural. 

Isabelle. Perfectly. 

Quinham. But to-day it's red. Now I should 
jolly well like to know, Miss Isabelle, what you do with 
this beastly red paint in a place that is full of nothing 
at all but ocean, trees and sand dunes. 

Isabelle (laughing). Why, Mr. Quinham, that 
is 

Hopkins (at back of table, interrupting). Seems 
to me we are one man short, Quinham, where is the 
doc? 

Quinham. I don't know, I'm sure. 

Jane (significantly). Ask Eleanor. 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN II 

Eleanor (l. of table). I'm sure I don't know why 
you expect me to know where he is. 

Isabelle (going up r., deposits bottle of turpentine 
on small table at l. of door. Comes dozun r. and sits 
in chair down r. ) . Oh, don't you ? How strange ! 

(Quinham goes r. and stands at Isabelle's chair.) 

Jane (r. of table). You don't know, I presume, 
whether or not he is still in Ogunquit. 

Isabelle (dozvn r. ). Or he hasn't spoken to you 
for a week 

Jane. And of course he hasn't proposed. 

Eleanor (indignantly) . Why, of course not. 

Isabelle. And why " of course not " ? 

Quinham (looking admiringly at Eleanor). Yes, 
by Jove, I don't see any " why of course not " to that ! 

Eleanor. Why, I've only known him for ten days. 

Jane. But that doesn't make any difference to our 
young doctor. 

Isabelle. Remember, my dear, Dr. Randolph 
Miner is a Southerner. 

Jane. And Southerners propose when a North- 
erner would give you a box of candy or tell you your 
new hat was becoming. 

Hopkins. Miner is an awfully good sort of fellow. 
You girls are getting the wrong impression of him if 
you think he is nothing but a fusser. 

Isabelle. Oh, we don't think so at all. We all 
like him tremendously. We know he doesn't mean 
anything, but some day some little simp of a Northern 
girl may not understand and may take him seriously. 

Jane. It would give him a good lesson if she did 
take him seriously and accept him. 

Quinham (struck with a sudden idea, comes down 
a). Oh, I say, ha! ha! I say, I've got a perfectly 
ripping scheme ! 

Jane (rising and coming down c. to Quinham). 
Have you? What is it? 

Quinham (c). Why, for the next girl he proposes 
to to accept him, — not seriously, but just as a lesson, 
don't you know ? 



l2 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Jane (l. c). I'm game, if I'm the one. 

Isabelle (rising and coming down r. c. to Quin- 
ham). I'd just as soon do it; just for a week, say. 

Hopkins. Fine! How about you, Miss Merrill? 

Eleanor (l. of table). Well, I don't know 

Quinham (c). Come, I thought all American 
girls were good sports. 

Jane (l. c). It just shows that you expect him to 
propose in the very immediate future. 

Eleanor (indignant). It shows nothing of the 
kind. To prove it I agree. 

(Rises and comes down l. c. to Jane.) 

All. Good for you ! Hoorah ! Bully ! etc. 
Jane (l. c). Shake on it. 

(The three grasp hands center stage. Quinham 
raises his hands and appears to bless them. The 
position afterward is from r. to l., Isabelle, Quin- 
ham, Jane, Eleanor, Hopkins.) 

Isabelle (r. a). For a week. 

(Quinham goes to Hopkins, back of table l.) 

Eleanor (crossing down r.). That wouldn't be 
bad. 

Jane (l. c). And he proposes so charmingly. 
Isabelle. Yes, doesn't he ? 



Quinham. ) tt i 1 •> 

Hopkins. } How do yow know? 



Eleanor (down r.). Yes, how do you know? 
Jane, has he? (Jane nods yes.) Isabelle, has he? 
(Isabelle nods yes.) And to how many others has 
he proposed, may I ask? 

Isabelle (r. c). I think to Helen Jenks in June. 

Jane (l. a). And I know to Dorothea Gage in 
July. 

Hopkins (at back of table l.). Is that all? 

Jane. So far as I know. 

Isabelle. I think so. He hasn't been attentive to 
any one else in particular. 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 13 

Eleanor (sitting in chair down r.). Is that all? 
Well, I should hope so. Four this summer, and it's 
only August. It looks as though I were in for it. 

Hopkins. Do you want to withdraw ? 

Eleanor (down r.). Indeed I don't. You are 
right; he needs a lesson in Northern customs. I'll go 
one further than I bargained to. I'll not only accept 
him if he proposes ; I'll see to it he does propose. 

Ouinham (to Hopkins). There, didn't I say 
American girls were jolly good sports? 

Eleanor. Where is he now? 

Hopkins. Up with the old lady, probably. 

Ouinham. I say, she does keep him deucedly tied 
down, doesn't she? 

Jane (l. c). Well, she is his job. 

Hopkins (going up stage). Silence! The hour is 
at hand ! The victim draws near ! 

(Isabelle and Jane go l. to Ouinham. All try to 
appear natural.) 

Ouinham (sniffing his coat sleeve). Jolly good 
stuff, that turpentine ! 

Isabelle. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a 
little bottle of it 

Quinham. Do you mean so small that I can carry 
it around in my pocket ? Oh, I say, Miss Burbank 

(Enter Miner, up l.) 

Miner (at door up l., speaking with a Southern 
drazvl and accent). The whole sextet here but me. 
I'm mighty sorry I couldn't come sooner. (Goes R. 
and picks up canvas.) How are the masterpieces 
coming ? 

Hopkins (up l.). Ask Ouinham. He has the 
most to say about painting to-day. But in the mean- 
time what will you have? 

Jane (sitting l. of table). There's nothing left but 
strawberry soda. 

Eleanor (r. ). And that isn't very good. 

Ouinham. It's too suggestive of that beastly red 
paint to be pleasant. 



14 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

(All laugh. Isabelle goes up c.) 

Miner (coming down a). As I don't know the 
joke about the red paint, I reckon it won't hurt me. 

(Quinham gives it to him.) 

Hopkins (going up c. to Isabelle). We're sorry 
to leave so soon after you come, Miner, but Isabelle 
and I are going to take our revenge on Mr. Quinham 
and Miss Orr for our tennis of yesterday. 

(Jane rises and crosses up r. to small table.) 

Miner (at r. of table). Don't wait for me. I'd 
like to watch, but I have to stay within call of Mrs. 
Stanton-Maynard. (Looks across at Eleanor.) 
You are not going, are you, Miss Merrill ? 

Eleanor (r.). No, I think not. I have just taken 
a pretty long walk and I'm tired. 

(The others exchange glances, winks, etc.) 

Miner. I'm sorry you are tired, but it's an ill wind, 
you know. 

Jane (picking up bottle from small table up R.). 
Here, Mr. Quinham, you carry the turpentine bottle. 

Quinham (going up r. to her). That's awfully 
good of you, Miss Orr. Do you know, for the first 
time in my life I feel I am acquiring a strong affection 
for the bottle. Ha ! Ha ! 

Miner. Here's luck to. you all ! 

All. Thank you, good-bye, etc. 

(Exit all but Eleanor and Miner. A slight pause. 
Eleanor sits down l. Miner drinks some straw- 
berry soda. ) 

Eleanor (languidly). How is Mrs. Stanton- 
Maynard to-day? 

Miner (at table, holding glass to light and scruti- 
nizing it). Fairly comfortable, but not so well as I 
hoped she would be by this time. 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 15 

Eleanor. Tell me, Dr. Miner, how did you happen 
to come up here with her ? 

Miner (placing glass on table and crossing r. to 
Eleanor). Why, you see, I had finished my term at 
the hospital in June and was ready to start in practic- 
ing for myself, but it seemed a bad time, particularly 
in the South, where almost every one goes away. So 
when Mrs. Stanton- Maynard decided to try the 
Northern sea air, bringing with her her own physician 
so as not to rely on summer resort doctors, her doctor 
very kindly suggested me. 

Eleanor (looking up at him). Then you have been 
here ever since June? It's been quite a long summer. 

Miner. It certainly has been. Not of course that 
I haven't enjoyed it. It has been my first trip North 
and I've found the people and the place charming; but 
it's been a good deal of responsibility, too. 

(Enter Marie, up l.) 

Marie (at door). Pardon, but madame weeshes 
to zee monsieur le docteur for a meenute. 

Miner. Oh, I'm sorry; but I'll be back in a few 
minutes. You'll wait, won't you, Miss Merrill? 

Eleanor. Certainly. 

(Exit Miner, up l.) 

Marie (coming down l., breathing deep). Eet ees 
glorious out here, ees eet not, mademoiselle? 

Eleanor. You are fond of the outdoors, aren't 
you, Marie? I notice you always wear a wild flower. 

Marie. Yees, yees, mademoiselle. I love the open 
air. I love the sea, and the saltness, and the smell of 
the feesh. You think it strange — is it not so? — that I 
love the smell of the fish and of the mud flats. But 
you see I live in the country myself when I was one 
leetle girl. 

Eleanor (down r.). And now you . live in the 
city ? 

Marie (l. c). Yees, until I come with madame, — 



l6 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

in New York. Perhaps I ought not to wear me a 
flower, because I am a lady's maid; but madame has 
not told me and until she tell me, I wear it. 

Eleanor. I should think she would be glad to see 
the bright flowers. 

Marie. Madame does not care for anything that 
should be cheerful. 

Eleanor. Do you stay with her all the time ? 

Marie. Oh, no, I go often to walk. And I meet 
some of the people who live in the little fishing houses 
over there. I like them, those fisher people. They 
are so good, so kind, — but too so bashful. 

(Enter Darius, up r., wheeling in trunk. He sees 
Marie, sets down trunk, and looks at her awkwardly 
a minute before he has courage enough to speak to 
her.) 

Darius (at door up r.). Marie! 

Marie (running delightedly toward him). Oh, 
Darius, did you call me ? 

Darius. I sho' did. (Pause.) 

Marie (up r.). Did — did you want something? 

Darius (at door). Wal, I jest thought I'd pass the 
time o' day with yer. 

Marie. Oh, yes. 

(After another pause during which Darius tries in 
vain to think of something to say, he picks up his 
truck and goes on. On reaching the door up l. he 
stops and calls.) 

Darius. Marie ! 
Marie (going to him). Yes? 
Darius. Would you jes' as soon open the door for 
me so's I c'n 

(Marie has opened the door and they go out together 
up l. Eleanor thoughtfully inspects her left hand, 
which is unusually pretty. She takes off a large seal 
ring and puts it on the other hand. She seems satis- 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 



J 7 



fied with her inspection, leans back languidly zvith 
her eyes half shut. Enter Miner, up l.) 

Miner {coming down r. to Eleanor). You look 
mighty happy. 

Eleanor. I am, perfectly. Who wouldn't be with 
such a day, and such a sky, and such luscious air ? 

Miner. Shall I spoil it if I stay? 

Eleanor. Oh, no, indeed; do sit down. 

(Miner draws stool to left of her and sits.) 

Miner. I believe I have found a cure for Mrs. 
Stanton-Maynard, if she would only try it. But she 
won't. 

Eleanor. What is it ? 

Miner. I would bring her down on this piazza and 
give her for tonic the sea and sky and a long look at 
the ocean and a deep breath of this air and above all 
let her have a chance to sit here by you. 

Eleanor (languidly). What good could that do? 

Miner (r. a). What good could that do? To sit 
beside a young, beautiful, happy girl like you? How 
could any one sit beside you without getting a whiff of 
your joyous enthusiasm ? 

Eleanor. Even you ? 

(Lets her left hand fall over arm of chair.) 

Miner. Why, I am quite carried off my feet by it. 
(Takes her hand and looks at it, languidly.) Your 
hand has your charm. 

Eleanor (softly). Yes? 

Miner (still looking at it). It is very beautiful. 
Am I the first who ever told you that ? 

Eleanor. I have had other compliments about my 
hand. 

Miner. How I wish I could call it mine. 

Eleanor (eagerly). You mean? 

Miner (fervently). There is only one thing I 
could mean, — that you were mine, — your hand and — 
you. 



l8 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Eleanor (suddenly no longer languid, but ecstatic). 
Oh, Randolph, I am so happy ! 

Miner (dropping her hand in amazement). Wh- 
what? 

Eleanor (leaning forward and talking excitedly as 
if unaware of his embarrassment) . Yes, you see, I 
didn't know ; all the time I have kept wondering if it 
could really be true, that you could care for me after 
such a short time. It seemed so wonderful, it was 
more like a romance than life. 

Miner (dazed). Yes — yes — much more like a 
romance. 

Eleanor (rushing on). But now I know that it 
isn't a romance, that it is the blessed truth and we are 
really engaged, aren't we — dear? 

Miner (swallowing hard). We're really — yes, 
we're really engaged. 

Eleanor (with a deep sigh). Isn't it wonderful? 

Miner. Yes, it is — it is — (mopping his forehead) 
wonderful ! 

Eleanor. And then, too, I had heard that Southern 
men were much more attentive without meaning any- 
thing than Northerners, and so I couldn't feel sure, — 
of course I was almost, but not quite sure — that you 
weren't like the rest. It is such a relief to know that 
you really do care. 

Miner. Yes, isn't it — a relief! (Pause.) I am 
so relieved. (Pause.) Miss Mer — Eleanor — dear, 
wouldn't you like something cool to drink? It is so 
very warm. (Rises and mops forehead. Walks l. 
Pause.) Er — don't you think it is warm? 

Eleanor (with pretended astonishment). Why, 
Randolph, how can you think of the weather at such 
a time? 

Miner. That's so. That wasn't proper, was it? 
(Tries to laugh.) You see — why, you see, I'm so 
happy I don't know what I am saying, I don't know 
what is proper. (Goes r. and stands beside her.) 
You see I have never been accepted, — that is I have 
never been engaged before. 

Eleanor. Why, Randolph, I should hope not ! 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 19 

{Pause. Miner stands awkwardly looking at her. 
Then his face lights as with an idea.) 

Miner. I know — the next thing is — to kiss each 
other — as a seal to the bond — you know. 

{Leans over to do it.) 

Eleanor (pushing him back). Oh, no. 

Miner. But why not? We're engaged, aren't we? 

Eleanor. Yes. 

Miner. Well, then we've got to come to it sooner 
or later. 

Eleanor {embarrassed in her turn). Yes, but I'd 
rather not, — not yet; you see, I'd rather wait because — 
well, because I don't want everything to come at once. 
It's so glorious, just being engaged, isn't it? 

Miner (mournfully). Yes, — glorious. 

Eleanor. So let's leave the rest until, — well until 
a week, say. 

(Miner paces nervously up and down the piazza. 
Pause. ) 

Miner (stopping c). You 

Eleanor. Yes? 

Miner. You don't mind my not talking, do you, 
Miss Mer — er — dear? I — I'm — to tell you the truth, 
I'm too happy to talk. (Goes on pacing. Looks off 
up r. ; sees Quinham. Looks at Eleanor, who is 
apparently unconcerned, then in despair calls to 
Quinham.) Oh, Quinham, Quinham, how did you 
come out? 

Quinham (off up r.). We won. 

Miner (going down l.). Come tell us about it. 
(To Eleanor.) I'm awfully anxious to hear about 
those doubles, aren't you, Eleanor? 

Eleanor (shrugging her shoiddcrs). Not es- 
pecially. 

Miner (contritely). Oh, I'm sorry. Really I am. 
I'll tell them not to come, or — or we can go off that 
way before they get here. (Starts toward door R.) 

Eleanor. No, never mind. 



20 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

(Enter, up R., Quinham, Jane, Isabelle and Hop- 
kins. Eleanor sits down r., gazing off into space. 
Miner stands down l. Isabelle and Hopkins 
come down l. c.) 

Quinham (to Jane). There isn't the slightest 
doubt, Miss Orr, as to what won that last set. (They 
come down r. c.) It was your net game. It's per- 
fectly ripping, don't you know? (To Eleanor.) 
Don't you think so, Miss Merrill ? 

Eleanor (coming back with a start). Yes — no. 
Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Quinham. Were you 
speaking to me ? 

Jane (r. c. ) . What's the matter with you two, any- 
way? You both look as if you were miles away. Is 
anything wrong? 

Eleanor (rising). Wrong? Oh, no indeed. I'm 
just too happy to talk. Randolph, shall we tell them? 

Miner (starting violently). Heavens, no! 
(Eleanor starts as if shocked. Others try to conceal 
laughter. Miner crosses r. to Eleanor.) Of course 
I didn't mean — only — only — well, I'm so mighty happy, 
you know, I don't know what I'm saying. 

Eleanor (down r.). Then why shouldn't we tell 
them ? 

Miner. Don't you think we'd better wait — just a 
little, you know, till we get a little accustomed to it 
ourselves? 

Eleanor (protesting). But I'm so happy, it seems 
almost selfish to keep all the joy to ourselves; it seems 
as though we ought to share it. And they wouldn't 
tell any one. 

Miner (flustered). But just wait a little while. 

Eleanor (resignedly). Very well, dear, just as 
you wish. But I am afraid they have guessed it 
already. 

(Miner looks back at four who are talking ex- 
citedly in couples.) 

Miner (resignedly). I'm afraid they have. All 
right, tell them. (Crosses l.) 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 21 

Eleanor. Well, we have decided to tell you. 

All. Good ! 

Eleanor. But you mustn't tell a single soul. 

All {speaking seriously and shaking heads). No, 
we won't. 

Eleanor (r.). Now I've gone that far, you go on. 

Miner (l.). I? — Oh, no, you finish. You — you 
do it — so well. 

Jane (r. c). Oh, please, Dr. Miner, what is it? 

Isabelle (l. c). We're pining to hear it. 

'Hopkins (l. a). Out with it. 

Miner. Well, it is this. We — that is, Eleanor 
and I 

All {eagerly). Yes? 

Miner {after looking in vain to them for help). 
The fact is — we are — we are — engaged. 

{All seem overwhelmed with astonishment.) 

Jane. You mean 



Ouinham. That you and Miss Merrill are going 
to be married. 

Miner {startled). Married? 

All. Yes, married. 

Hopkins. Come to, man; doesn't being engaged 
generally mean you are going to be married? 

Miner {dumbfounded). I hadn't thought of that. 

All. What? 

Miner. Why — er — you see, thinking of being en- 
gaged is — enough happiness for one day — without — 
a— thinking of being married. 

Jane {to Eleanor). Then is it really true, 
Eleanor ? 

(Eleanor, too happy to speak, nods yes. All begin 
to talk at once. The two men grasp Miner's hands 
and slap him on the back. The girls kiss Eleanor 
and talk to her, keeping an eye always on Miner, 
who is miserable in the realization that his case is 
getting more and more hopeless. ) 

Hopkins. Well, doc, here's my hand. She is one 



22 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

of the finest girls I ever knew, and you certainly are a 
lucky dog, etc., etc. 

Ouinham. I say, old chap, congratulations. She's 
a ripping fine girl and you're a jolly lucky man to have 
her, etc., etc. 

Jane. Oh, Eleanor, it's just dandy. He is per- 
fectly splendid and won't it be great to live in the 
South, etc., etc. 

Isabelle. It's lovely, Eleanor. I don't know when 
I have heard anything that has pleased me so much, 
etc., etc. 

Jane (crossing l. to Miner). But I haveift con- 
gratulated you, Dr. Miner, and you certainly are to be 
congratulated. She is one big peach. 

(Men cross to Eleanor.) 

Isabelle (crossing l. to Miner). Yes, she is, Dr. 
Miner, and the best of it all is that you are so won- 
derfully suited to each other. To think that you 
should have discovered it so soon ! 

Miner (mopping his forehead). Yes — yes — won- 
derful, wasn't it, wonderful ! 

(Looks furtively at bottles and glasses.) 

Hopkins (r. c). You look hot, doc. 

Miner (l.). I am. You see, it's quite a nerve 
strain to propose. There is the uncertainty and — and 
the risk. (Fervently.) I just tell you, boys, it's a 
risky thing to propose. 

Jane (l. c). Risky? 

Hopkins. Yes, explain yourself there. 

Miner (l.). Why, yes. Suppose — suppose — why 
suppose she should reject you! What a terrible thing 
that would be ! 

Ouinham (down r. by Eleanor). By Jove, it 
would be deuced awkward! Do you know, I never 
thought of that. I almost proposed myself once, but 
I'll consider it more carefully before I ever get so near 
it again. 

Miner. Once? 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 23 

Quinham. Now you don't mean to imply you 
think I may have come near it more than once, do 
you? Why, man, I'm only twenty-live. 

Hopkins. I should hope not. No man ought to 
consider matrimony seriously until he is well estab- 
lished in his career. 

Miner. But to propose — well, you Northerners do 
do a vast deal of considering. 

Eleanor. Why, Randolph, you don't mean that 
you have really proposed to any other girl. 

Isabelle (l. c, looking at Miner). Oh, no. 

Jane (r. c, doing the same). Oh, dear, no. 

Miner. Oh, of course I didn't mean that — but — 
er 

Isabelle (reproachfully). Why, Eleanor, one 
would think you were actually accusing him of it. 

Jane. And so soon too. 

Eleanor (running over to Miner, l., and speaking 
in a propitiatory voice). Oh, dear, no, I didn't mean to 
do that at all. I'm so sorry, Randolph. You'll for- 
give me, won't you? (Miner hesitates awkwardly.) 
Say you'll forgive me. 

Miner. Why of course, my dear, I'll forgive you. 

Hopkins (in a relieved tone). Then everybody's 
happy again. 

Miner (with an effort). Yes, everybody's happy. 

Quinham (looking at Miner). Yes, everybody's 
happy, deucedly happy ! 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE. — Same as Act I. Time: One week later. 

(Discovered: Eleanor and Miner coming on tip r., 
evidently returning from a walk. They are both 
bareheaded. ) 

Eleanor (coming dozvn r.). That was a glorious 
walk. I wish the wind always blew this way, don't 
you? 

Miner (following her). Eleanor, what's the 
matter? I never saw you so impersonal as you are 
this afternoon. You seem to try to keep me talking 
about nothing but the weather and the scenery. 
(Eleanor turns suddenly and walks d. c. Miner 
stands d. r.) Do you know, we've been engaged a 
week to-day? 

Eleanor (down c, quietly). Yes, I know it. 

Miner (going to her). And you've never let 
me 

(Starts to take her in his arms and to lean over as if 
to kiss her.) 

Eleanor (drawing away). You never asked me 
before. 

Miner. You asked me not to; but I am not going 
to wait any longer. 

Eleanor. You never wanted to before. 

Miner. I do now. 

Eleanor (turning to him eagerly). Do you really? 
(She lets him take her in his arms. He leans over 
and is just going to kiss her, when she pushes him 
back. Goes l., excitedly.) No, no, you mustn't. 

Miner (c). Eleanor, what do you mean — I 
mustn't ? 

24 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 25 

Eleanor (speaking with an effort). I mean — we 
have been engaged a week to-day and I — break the 
engagement. 

Miner (a, amazed). You — break — the — engage- 
ment ! 

Eleanor. Yes. (Sits l. of table.) Sit down and 
I'll tell you all about it. (Miner crosses l. and sits R. 
of table.) When you proposed did you mean it? 

Miner (embarrassed). Why, I 

Eleanor (relentlessly). Did you? 

Miner (yielding). Well, no„ I did not. 

Eleanor. Neither did I when I accepted you. 

Miner. But why did you accept me then ? 

Eleanor. Why did you propose? 

Miner. Why, I — well, I have been wondering 
about that a good deal this week. Evidently you-all 
in the North have a different attitude about proposing 
from ours. Every one at home does it to — why, to be 
polite, you know. 

Eleanor. That is why I accepted you — (mimick- 
ing him) to be polite, you know. 

Miner (after a pause). May I ask if there was 
any further — motive ? 

Eleanor. Why, yes. They were talking about 
you that day and your habit of proposing on a few 
days' acquaintance. Some one said it would be too 
bad if some little simp of a Northern girl should take 
you seriously. Quinham suggested that the first one 
you proposed to should act the little simp and accept 
you. 

Miner (slowly). I see. Sort of a little moral 
lesson. And you happened to be the first? 

Eleanor. I happened to be the next. It came out 
afterward that Jane and Isabelle had already had that 
honor. 

Miner. That's so, they had. (Pause.) Well, I 
have had my lesson ; the next thing is to take the joke 
in. the sporting spirit in which it was meant. 

Eleanor. Tell me one thing. Would you have 
gore ahead and married me if you had continued to 
think I really cared? 



26 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Miner. It certainly was the only honorable thing 
to do. Think how humiliating it would have been for 
you if I had told you the truth. 

Eleanor. A Northern man would not have done it. 

Miner. Oh, yes, he would. 

Eleanor. Oh, no, he wouldn't. He would never 
have married a girl he didn't care for because she had 
fallen desperately in love with him and had taken his 
flippant proposal seriously. What's more, you would 
have carried out your resolution to make me happy if 
it had ruined your life. I see, we misunderstood your 
Southern gallantry. I'm sorry I played with you as 
I did. 

Miner. It's a lesson I needed, no doubt. 

Eleanor. But it wasn't my business to give it to 
you. 

Miner (laughing). I certainly must have cut a 
silly figure when they congratulated me. 

Eleanor (laughing) . You certainly did. 

(Voices outside.) 

Miner (rising). Now to show that I can take a 
joke. 

Eleanor (rising). Allow me to be the first to con- 
gratulate you, Dr. Miner, on your release. 

Miner. Thank you, Miss Merrill. (He takes the 
hand she jokingly offers him across the table and an- 
szuers in the same way. She starts to draw away, but 
he grasps it, holding her toward him, looking down 
into her eyes and speaking entreatingly.) Eleanor! 

(Enter Ouinham, Hopkins, Jane and Isabelle, 

Up R. ) 

Ouinham (coming down r.). Deah me, are we 
interrupting the fiancees? 

Eleanor (r. of table, drawing away). Fiancees 
no longer. Randolph, shall we tell them? 

Miner (l. of table, imitating his former tone). 
Heavens no! (All laugh.) Don't you think we'd 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN ^'] 

better wait a little while? Something might happen, 
you know, dear. 

Eleanor (stiffly). Dr. Miner! 

Miner. Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Merrill. 
You know really, — you must excuse me — but I'm so 
happy, — and it takes some little time to become ac- 
customed to calling you Miss Merrill. But we'll tell 
them if you wish to. 

Eleanor. Well, then, I've broken the engagement. 

Isabelle (coming dozvn r.). Eleanor, how could 
you? It will break his heart. 

Hopkins (following her). Are congratulations in 
order ? 

Eleanor (l. a). Of course, congratulate him. 

Miner (crossing to c). I think I .ought to con- 
gratulate you-all on the success of your joke. It's a 
right good joke. There is only one trouble with it. 

Hopkins (d. r.). What is that? 

Miner (c). The joke isn't on me. 

Quinham (r.)- Do you know, I thought of that 
myself. 

Jane (l. a). Why, how is that? 

Miner. You put your heads and your New Eng- 
land consciences together (excuse me, Quinham) to 
teach me a little moral lesson. And how do you teach 
that lesson? By inflicting upon me a week's engage- 
ment with Miss Merrill, — a week of walking, boating, 
bathing, riding, playing tennis, and dancing with the 
most — with one of the three most charming girls in 
Ogunquit. Now I ask you, would even a sure-enough 
New England conscience call that a hardship? 

All. No. 

Miner. Well, then, on whom is the joke? Cer- 
tainly not on me. 

Quinham (rushing up to Miner, c, and speaking 
with pretended alarm). Oh, doctor, doctor, what 
have you done ? 

Miner (alarmed). Why, what's the matter? 

Quinham. Where have you been this afternoon? 

Miner. To walk with Miss Merrill. 

Quinham. And do you mean to say you have 



28 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

been in Ogunquit all summer and have not learned 
yet that when you walk you must keep walking, and 
not lean up against trees or sit on rocks ? 

Miner. And what harm? 

Quinham. What harm? Why, you have that 
beastly paint all over the side of your coat ! 

(All laugh, crowd together and examine coat.) 

Miner (c). Oh, it will come off in the wash. 

Quinham (r. a). Oh, but it won't. It takes 
turpentine. (Takes from vest pocket a small bottle, 
almost empty, and a neatly folded, dirty paint rag.) 
Here, I'll have it off for you in a jiffy. Miss Burbank, 
will you kindly hold the bottle (hands bottle to Isa- 
belle), and Miss Orr, the cork (hands cork to Jane), 
and I will apply the solvent. 

(Amused, they do as bid; Quinham cleans coat; Hop- 
kins picks up pad and pencil and sketches them, 
down r. Eleanor crosses to him and looks over 
his shoulder.) 

Isabelle (r. c. ) . This bottle is almost empty 
again. How do you ever use up so much turpentine? 
And you need a new cloth. That one is dirty. 

Quinham (rubbing Miner's coat energetically). 
Well, you see, I was wearing out all my clothes rubbing 
off paint, so now I take my bottle along and just rub 
the moist spots off the rocks before I sit down. 

Jane (l. a). Good heavens, you don't mean to 
say you are trying to clean up the rocks of Ogunquit ! 

Quinham. It's really quite the simplest way. I 
tried carrying a pillow with me but it was a beastly 
nuisance, and then I'd forget to always put the painty 
side down, so it was really worse than the rocks them- 
selves. (Sees Hopkins.) I say, Hopkins, what is 
the budding artist doing now? 

Hopkins (down r.). The budding artist is making 
a homely little sketch for the Ogunquit Sentinel en- 
titled " Sears Quinham, D. T., doctor of turpentine." 

(All laugh.) 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 20, 

Quinham. There, it is done. (Folds cloth, takes 
bottle from Isabelle, cork from Jane, with much 
ceremony, and puts the bottle back in his pocket.) 
By Jove, I have another scheme. 

Hopkins (downR.). Is it ripping this time ? 

Quinham. Yes, perfectly. 

Miner (a). Am I the goat? 

Quinham (r. c). No, I am. 

Jane (l. a). Impossible! 

Eleanor, (r.). What is it? 

Quinham. Do you all agree to it? 

Jane (l. c). Not until we've heard it. 

Quinham. Oh, I say, agree first. 

Isabelle. A trifle risky. r 

Quinham. Well, then, it's this: You all say to 
yourselves : " There's that English Johnnie, Sears 
Quinham, he's a conceited ass " 

Isabelle. Oh, no. 

Quinham. Oh, yes, you do. You think all Eng- 
lishmen are conceited asses because we pronounce our 
final consonants. Now, then, you say : " He is so 
conceited that he thinks all the girls are in love with 
him. To take it out of him, let's agree that the first 
one he offers himself to accepts him." 

Jane (l. c, decidedly). No. 

Miner (c). Aren't you taking it rather person- 
ally, Miss Orr? 

Isabelle. I'm sure I don't see why I'm out of the 
question, — I have a whole gallon of turpentine in the 
studio. 

Eleanor. And I'm fresh from a week's practice. 

Miner (dryly). Yes, I'll give Miss Merrill a 
recommendation. 

Jane. Oh, very well ; you agree to it and I'll stand 
by and cheer. 

Quinham (hastily). Well, now, it would be 
hardly worth while if you didn't all agree to it. 

(All laugh.) 
Hopkins. Who is the goat now, Quinham? (Goes 



30 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

up R.) Isabelle, if we are going to get to Haskell's 
studio before sunset to see his exhibition, we'd better 
start. 

Isabelle. You are right there. 

(Exeunt Isabelle and Hopkins, up r. Eleanor sits 
down r.) 

Quinham. Would you girls like to go canoeing? 

Jane. I'd love to. 

Quinham (turning to Eleanor). And you, Miss 
Merrill ? 

Eleanor. Why, yes, I'd like to very 

Miner (c. ). Miss Merrill is sorry, but she is go- 
ing to walk with me. 

Eleanor (dozvn r., indignantly). Indeed? 

Miner. Just to show there is no ill feeling. 
(Eleanor still hesitates.) Unless, of course, there is 
ill feeling. 

Eleanor (resignedly). If you put it that way I 
suppose Ell have to stay. (To Quinham.) I'm 
sorry, Mr. Quinham; some other time. 

Quinham. To-morrow, perhaps? (Eleanor as- 
sents.) I'll go see about a canoe, and meet you at 
the boat house in a few minutes, Miss Orr. 

(Exit, up r. Jane starts toward door r.) 

Miner (stopping Jane). Oh, Miss Orr. 

Jane (r. a). Yes. 

Miner (going to her). I don't want to be pre- 
sumptuous, but have you ever been canoeing with 
Quinham? 

Jane. Why, yes. 

Miner. Then you know how expert he is with 
the paddle. There is a high wind to-day. 

Jane (laughing). Yes, indeed, I do know. But 
I'm perfectly at home in a canoe and can help him out 
if he gets into difficulty. Thank you for the warning. 

(Exit, up r.) 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 31 

Eleanor {down r.). Is that why you wouldn't 
let— didn't want me to go ? 

Miner (silting on stool beside her). Partly. 
Partly, too, because I wanted to be with you. 

Eleanor (wearily). I should think you would 
have had enough of that in the past week. 

Miner. I haven't; not nearly. 

Eleanor. So you look on it all now as a lark. 

Miner. Miss Merrill, I either had to let them see 
how I felt about being made to appear such a — such 
" a conceited ass " — or else pass it off as a joke. If I 
had done the first, what you call my Southern temper 
would have got away with me, so I preferred the 
second. 

Eleanor. I must say you threw it back in our 
faces very cleverly. 

Miner. Besides, I meant what I said. This week 
has been 

(Enter Marie, up l.) 

Marie (at door l.). Pardon, but madame would 
like to see monsieur le docteur when it shall be con- 
venient. 

Miner (rising). As usual, we are interrupted. 
I'll come back as soon as I can. 

(Exit Miner, up l. Marie goes to back stage and 
looks off up r. She sees some one and primps in 
delight. Sees Eleanor watching her and is 
embarrassed. ) 

Marie. The wind blows so my hair. 

(Comes down l.) 

Eleanor. Yes; perhaps it blows Darius over the 
hill, too. 

Marie (shyly). Oh, mademoiselle! 

Eleanor. How are you and Darius getting along? 

Marie. Oh, marvelously. But he is so bashful. 
(Enter Darius, up r.) Oh, mademoiselle, the wind 
is nice on the cheeks, is it not so? 



32 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Eleanor (down r.). Yes, indeed. Why, hello, 
Darius. 

Darius (r. c). How-de-do? Blowin' up purty 
fresh in the nor'east. 

Eleanor. We were just saying how nice it felt 
on our cheeks. Don't you like it ? 

Darius. Na-o, I can't say as I do. You rusti- 
cators may call it " nice " but it's because you doan't 
know it. Wait till the nor'easter has drove in and 
made gaps in yer family and the families of yer 
friends and then see if you call it "nice." (To 
Marie.) He-o, Marie. 

Marie (down l.). Hello, Darius, where do you 
go? 

Darius (r. a). Oh, I'm just noggin' up along. 
You want t' come? 

Marie (l.). Why, I can go for a little while. 

(They start toward door up r.) 

Darius (pointing to her daisy). Do you like that 
there white weed ? 

Marie. That is not a white weed; it is a daisy. 

Darius. White weed's what we call 'em. I calc'- 
late they're purtier, though, when you call 'em daisies. 
There's a lot of 'em up behind the cottage, stickin' 
their little yaller noses up jes' as perk and purty as 

(Exeunt Marie and Darius, up r. Enter Miner, 
up l. Comes down r. and sits beside Eleanor.) 

Miner (seriously) . Eleanor, it's no use. Perhaps 
I did go too far in making the girls think I might be 
serious when I was only playing with them. But you 
have been playing with me for a week and now you 
ask me to take it all as a joke. 

Eleanor. I did go too far. I entered into the 
adventure on the spur of the moment, and once 
launched I didn't know how to turn back. It was 
rather a mean trick. But can't you forgive me? 
Forget the week,- — and we can be good friends again. 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 33 

Miner. Forget the week, when it has been the 
happiest week in my life ! 

Eleanor. There, now, you have spoiled it all 
again. 

Miner. Spoiled it? How? 

Eleanor. By your abominable flattery. 

Miner. But it wasn't flattery. I meant it. 

Eleanor. You always say that, don't you? 

Miner. But this time I really did mean it. Can't 
you see, dear, that being with you as I have morning, 
afternoon, and evening for a week I have grown to 
know you as I never could have otherwise. Thinking 
you were one day to be my wife, I have tried to know 
you. When I made love to you, I thought I was act- 
ing, but I found to-day when you told me you had 
been acting that I had grown to be in earnest 
(Eleanor looks at him as if amused and smiles.) 
What can I do to make you see that I am serious ? 

Eleanor {lightly). Do you really expect to be 
taken seriously by a girl who knows this is at least 
your sixth proposal this summer ? 

Miner {earnestly). But don't you see that this 
time I really mean it? 

Eleanor. You probably told Jane that 

Miner. But I never imagined I could love any 
one as I do you. 

Eleanor. Did you try that on Isabelle? 

Miner {wildly). Dearest, you must understand. 
I can't lose you now. You shall love me. 

Eleanor {smiling languidly). Perhaps that was 
your first attempt in the North, to the girl who was 
here in June. 

(Miner rises and paces the stage in despair. Stops 
before her.) 

Miner {desperately). What can T say, Eleanor, 
to make you believe that I am sincere ? Look at me. 
Do I look like a man who is joking? 

Eleanor {rising and going up a). No, I can't 
say you do. {He starts eagerly toward her, but stops 



34 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 



as she resumes her joking tone.) But then you ought 
to be able to act the part pretty well by this time ; you 
have had plenty of practice. 

Miner. Can't you see that the others were only 
summer flirtations, while this 

Eleanor (at door up R.). It is still summer. 
Look, here comes poor Darius, who wants to make 
love but doesn't know how. You'd better give him 
lessons. I'll write you a recommendation as an ex- 
pert if you wish. 

Miner (in a last desperate effort). Can't you see 
that the others were mere 

Eleanor. Rehearsals, as it were, and this — well, 
this is rehearsal number six. Seven is a lucky num- 
ber, so perhaps this may be the dress rehearsal. If 
so, I give you my good wishes ; may the real per- 
formance, proposal number seven, be successful ! 

(Exit, door up r. Miner storms up and down stage. 
Enter Darius and Marie, up r. They come down 
c. Miner looks at them and then rushes up be- 
tween him excitedly.) 

Miner (c). Do you-all know the fable about the 
hare and the tortoise? 

Marie (l. c). Le lievre et la tortue? 

Darius (r. a). Wal, I heard tell of it w'en I was 
a young 'un. 

Miner. You know how the hare and the tortoise 
had a race. The hare covered the ground in great 
bounds, while the tortoise plodded slowly along in his 
tracks. 

Darius. " Slow but steady wins the race." Wal, 
what of it? 

Miner • (c, excited). What of it? Why, man, 
when the tortoise was within a few steps of his goal 
he looked back and there was the hare asleep on a rock, 
dreaming about the ease and rapidity with which he 
covered the ground at first. (Miner storms off up l.) 

Darius (r. a). Wal, I want to know! 

Marie (l. c). What could he have meant? 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 35 

Darius {going l. c. to Marie). Marie, I want t' 
ask you somethin'. 

Marie {eagerly). Yes? 

Darius. I've ben thinkin' of it for quite a spell, 
but I'm kinder back'ard abaout it because 

Marie. Well? 

Darius. Because, you see, I livin' up here in the 
country and you livin' in New York I doan't know as 
we'd take to the same things. 

Marie {earnestly). Oh, but I love everything 
about the country, you know, Darius. 

Darius {determined). Wal, that settles it then; 
I'll ask you. 

Marie. Yes, do. 

Darius. There's goin' to be a time up t' the village 
to-morrow an* I wanted ter know would you go with 
me? 

Marie {taken aback). A time? 

Darius. Yes, a church sociable, you know, where 
they play Trim the Willow and Tucker and Hay- 
makers and Hunt the Squirrel. 'Tisn't much shucks, 
I guess, compared to your city ricktums, but we man- 
age to have purty good times. 

Marie {trying to control her surprise). Why, yes, 
I will go — with pleasure. 

Darius. You don't seem very set on it. 

Marie. Oh, yes, really, I will love to go. I was 
surprised, that is all. But I shall be glad to play Trim 
the Willow. 

{Enter Miner, up l.) 

Miner {coming down c, anxiously). Excuse me 
for. interrupting, but has Miss Merrill been through 
here ? 

Marie (l. a). No, monsieur. 

Miner (r. a). I was afraid she had gone canoe- 
ing with Quinham. It's a right high wind to-day. 

Marie. No, I saw Mr. Quinham start some time 
ago with Miss Orr. 

Darius. Wal, I hope that young shrimp knows 
how to handle a bo-at. It's blowin' like ole Sam Hill. 



36 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Miner. He doesn't. Miss Orr is worth two of 
him in a canoe. How far were they going? 

Marie. To the Devil's Hole, I heard them say. 

Darius. What — the Devil's Hole — in a canoe, 
with a man who can't manage a boat? Why, I 
wouldn't go there myself to-day with the wind blowin' 
at this rate. It is just the turn of the tide, too. 

(Starts off up r.) 

Miner. Where are you going? 

Darius (stopping). To git a man and go after 
them, if it isn't too late. 

Miner (a). Where are you going to get a man? 

Darius. Dunno. There's none in sight. 

Miner. Take me. I'm a good oarsman. 

Darius (hesitating). It's dangerous. — It may 
mean death. 

Miner. My life has already been consecrated to 
saving the lives of others. (Goes tip r. to Darius.) 
Don't waste time talking. What shall I do? 

Darius. Git off the Mary Ann while I go for the 
oars. 

(Exit Darius, up l. Miner starts after him, then 
turns back and comes down c. to Marie.) 

Miner (c). If I don't come back, Marie, give 
Miss Merrill this. (Takes box from pocket and hands 
it to her.) I was going to give it to her to-day. Tell 
her when she wears it to remember she has given me 
the happiest week of my life. Good-bye, Marie. 

Marie (sobbing, l. c). Good-bye, oh, good-bye, 
docteur. 

(Exit Miner, up r. Marie puts box in pocket; wipes 
eyes. Enter Darius, up r., with oars and a clump 
of daisies .) 

Darius' (leaning oars against small table at door 
up r. and coming down c. to Marie). These daisies 
were growin' right alongside the shed where my oars 
were standing, so I picked 'em for you. 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 37 

{Hands them to her.) 

Marie {taking them). Oh, thank you, Darius. 

{Sobs.) 

Darius {taking her in his anus). I can't tell you 
what I want to, Marie ; I'm not much on words. But 
you know that to me you are the best girl in the whole 
world, don't you, Marie ? 

Marie {holding him tightly). Yes, yes. Oh, 
Darius, do not go. 

Darius. I must. 

Marie. Yes, you must. Good-bye, good-bye. 

Darius {kissing her). Good-bye, Marie, good-bye. 

(Darius goes to door up r., takes up oars and exit. 
Marie stands l. c. Then she runs a few steps to- 
ward door up r.) 

Marie. Darius ! Darius ! Come back, come back ! 

{There is no answer. Marie comes down r. and sits 
in chair, her face buried in her handkerchief. Enter 
Eleanor, up l.) 

Eleanor {coming dozvn r. to Marie). Why, 
Marie, what's the matter? 

Marie {zveeping). He has gone, oh, Miss Merrill, 
he has gone ! 

Eleanor. Who ? 

Marie. Darius. 

Eleanor. Gone! What do you mean? Tell me. 

Marie. He has gone to rescue Mr. Quinham and 
Miss Orr. The wind is frightful, and Mr. Quinham 
does not know how to manage the boat. 

Eleanor. Dr. Miner warned Jane and he pre- 
vented me from going. Where are they? 

Marie. Oh, that is the most frightful of all. 
They went to the Devil's Hole. 

Eleanor. That is at the narrows in the salt-water 
river where the current is so treacherous, isn't it? 

Marie. Yes, and it is just the turn of the tide too. 
Darius says that is the most dangerous time of all. 



38 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Eleanor (leaning over Marie). Poor little 
Marie! And you truly love him? 
Marie. Oh, so much ! 
Eleanor. And he you? 
Marie. Yes, he told me so when he left. 

(Kisses daisies.) 

Eleanor. But you are so different. 

Marie. How ? 

Eleanor. Why, he is of the country; you of the 
city, of Paris. 

Marie. It is because you do not know that you 
say that. I am a Canadienne. My people are like 
his people. (Rises and goes to door up r. and looks 
off.) My heart is always in the country. The city 
(with a shrug), it is only my support. 

Eleanor. But your accent, your gestures, your 
manners ? 

Marie (coming down a). But they are for my 
support too. See, I do not shrug the shoulders now. 
My accent is not French ; it is Canadienne. 

Eleanor (down r.). Then how does it hap- 
pen ? 

Marie (a). When I am fourteen year old I go to 
Paris as maid to a French lady. After two year, we 
come back to New York and then soon I leave her. I 
go to an employment office. I wear my big hat and 
plain suit from Canada. I say to the woman : " I 
am Canadienne. I call myself Sophie. I wish a place 
to do house work." "Can you cook?" she asks. 
" Only a little." " Have you had training to wait on 
the table ? " " No." " I can give you a place then 
to make beds and wait on the table in a boarding house 
at four dollars a week," she says to me kindly. 

Eleanor. Did you take it? 

Marie. No, I go home. I take off my old suit 
Canadienne and I put on the suit of madame's she has 
given me. I alter it some to make it look like the suits 
I see in Paris. I take off my big hat Canadienne and 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 39 

put on my little hat de Paris, with the one feather in 
it, — so. I call myself not Sophie, but Marie. Then I 
go to another employment office. I do not wait for 
the woman to ask me question. I' stand so. I talk 
with my shoulders, my hands, my head, — so. I say: 
" Madame, I do not talk well 1' Anglais. I am chust 
here from Paris. I weesh a posisi-on as femme de 
chambre, — how do you say — ladies' maid. I care for 
madame's laces, I launder madame's collars, I dress 
madame and arrange her coiffure, I see that all is 
comme il faut in her boudoir, I serve her breakfast. 
Rien difficile, bien entendu, — no, — how do you say? — 
no heavy work, of course." 

Eleanor (smiling). Did she find you a place? 

Marie. She tell me she has five ladies who want 
just such a maid. So I say " au revoir to the boarding 
house and the four dollars a week ! " 

Eleanor. And they don't know the difference. 

Marie. Oh, no. I tell madame one day later, but 
she says to keep the accent, the gesture, the shrug; it 
gives ton to the establishment. So, you see, it is my 
support. But it is the country I love. You hear what 
Darius say about city people, — how they come to the 
country and play with the sea. He say that it is only 
when the sea drives in and makes gaps among our 
friends that we know it. (Sobs.) 

Eleanor (going to Marie, c). There, Marie, 
don't think about it. 

Marie. But it is like a prophecy. 

Eleanor. Tell me, Marie, did he go alone? 

Marie. No. 

Eleanor. Who went with him ? 

Marie. A man. 

Eleanor. What man? 

Marie (nervously). I — I don't know. 

Eleanor (r. c, alarmed). Marie! 

Marie (scared). Yes. 

Eleanor (fearfully). Was it — was it — Dr. Miner? 
(Marie does not answer. Eleanor grasps her arm.) 
Tell me, Marie, was it? Was it? (Marie nods yes.) 
Why didn't you tell me sooner? 



4-0 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

Marie. Because I thought it was no use that you, 
too, should worry. 

Eleanor. And you have been chattering all this 
time about yourself so I would not ask! Marie, thank 
you. Did he — say anything — to you — before — he 
went? 

Marie. Yes. He told me to give you this box if 
he did not come back. He meant to give it to you 
to-day. He said when you wear it to remember that 
you gave to him the happiest week of his life. 

(Gives her box.) 

Eleanor (taking box). He said that as he was 
leaving when he knew he might never come back! 
Oh, then he meant it! (Opens box and takes out 
necklace.) A necklace! (Almost angrily to Marie.) 
Marie, do you realize how happy you should be? 
(Marie looks at her dumbfounded.) Didn't you tell 
Darius you loved him just before he left? (Marie 
nods yes.) But I didn't. I made fun of Randolph, 
I laughed at him, I pretended not to believe him, I 
mocked him, I scorned him. 

Marie (a). But why? 

Eleanor (r. c). Why, because my pride was 
hurt. I knew to-day that I loved him and it humili- 
ated me to think that at first he was insincere. If he 
would only come back now ! If he would only come 
back ! 

Marie. I hear some one. 

(Both rush to door up r., then fall back up c, dis- 
appointed. Enter Isabelle and Hopkins, up r.) 

Eleanor (eagerly). Have you seen Randolph? 

Marie (up a). Or Darius? 

Isabelle (going up r. c). No; what's the matter? 

Eleanor (walking down l. distractedly). Oh, 
they have gone in a rowboat to the Devil's Hole. 

Hopkins (following her). To the Devil's Hole, in 
this gale! What for? 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 41 

Eleanor {down l.). After Jane and Quinham, 
who had paddled up there. 

Isabelle (r. c). Jane in danger! 

Hopkins (l. c). Shall I get a party to go after 
them ? 

Eleanor. It would be of no use now. 

(Marie, who is up c, utters a scream of joy: " Oh! " ) 

All {turning). What is it? 

Marie {up c, looking off r.). The Englishman! 
The Englishman! {Enter Quinham, up r., with a 
bath-robe on over his shirt and trousers. His soaked 
hair stands up all over his head. He has no collar nor 
shoes, but paddles along in water-soaked rubbers. 
Marie runs to meet him as he enters. All are silent. 
Marie, up r. ) Where is Darius ? 

Quinham {at door). Coming. 

Eleanor {down l., .fearfully). And Randolph? 

Quinham. Safe. {Comes down c.) 

(Marie runs off up r. Quinham comes down c. 
Eleanor sinks into a chair r. of table.) 

Isabelle (r. a). And Jane? 

Quinham (c). Has gone right to her room. I 
found this bath-robe at the bath-house and came this 
way to let you know we were all safe. 

Hopkins {crossing to c. and shaking Quinham's 
hand). We're mighty glad, old man, mighty glad. 

Isabelle {coming down r.). We surely are. Tell 
us what happened. 

' Quinham. Well, you see, I'd heard of the Devil's 
Hole and liked the sound of it. But I hadn't any idea 
it was so devilishly dangerous. Neither had Miss 
Orr. The wind was fresh but we got along fairly 
well until all of a sudden we felt the canoe being 
pulled rapidly down toward the hole. We tried to 
guide it, but couldn't. We just went on — on into we 
didn't know what. Then a cross current struck us and 
in a flash we were over. I grabbed her with one hand 



42 PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 

and the canoe, which was floating upside down, with 
the other. There we floated, now this way, now that. 

Isabelle (down r. ) . For how long? 

Quinham. I don't know. It seemed hours. I 
suppose it was only minutes, — perhaps seconds. I 
looked at Jane. She was giving out. She whispered 
to me she couldn't last any longer. I got hold of her 
over the top of the boat with one arm, while I held on 
with the other. But I knew my endurance was almost 
gone. I think I was beginning to lose consciousness 
when I was brought to by a shout. 

Isabelle. The doctor and Darius! 

Ouinham (c). Yes. That gave us new strength. 
As they guided the boat down through the eddies, 
each had an oar broken. One more and they would 
have been lost. But they reached us. 

Hopkins (l. c). How did they get you into the 
boat? 

Quinham. They couldn't. But they got us on 
the outside of it. Miner tied ropes around us and 
held us on, while Darius rowed us back with one pair 
of oars. I have laughed at the funny short strokes 
the natives here take, but, by Jove, I never will again ! 
One of those little strokes can be worth all the long 
pulls the Thames ever saw. (Enter Miner, Darius 
and Marie, up R. Isabelle, Hopkins and Ouinham 
run to meet them. Eleanor is sitting, listening in- 
tently, up l. She rises at sight of Miner, and stands 
with her arms outstretched to him. Quinham grasps 
Miner's hand.) Miner, I haven't thanked you, I 
never can. 

Miner (up r. a). Don't trouble to, my dear 
Quinham. 

Isabelle. It was splendid. 

(Miner pushes through the group to Eleanor, leav- 
ing them thanking Darilts.) 

Eleanor (l.). Randolph! 

Miner (taking her in his arms). Eleanor! 

Eleanor. Darling, at last ! 



PROPOSAL NUMBER SEVEN 43 

Hopkins {up c, to Darius). It was splendidly 
done. 

Darius {up r. c. ). Oh, it was no more'n any one 
would V done for a friend. 

Isabelle {down r. c. ) . You ought to be proud of 
him, Marie. 

Marie {up r. c). I was proud of him before. 

(Darius slyly puts his arm around her. Order r. to 
l., Isabelle, Marie, Darius, Hopkins, Ouin- 
ham, Miner, Eleanor.) 

Hopkins {seeing Miner and Eleanor). Great 
Scott ! I thought that was all off. 

Quinham {up a). By Jove, it's my scheme work- 
ing still ! It is even more ripping than I thought. 

Isabelle. Don't tell me, Eleanor, that he has pro- 
posed again. 

Miner {down l.). Eleanor told me seven was my 
lucky number and that proposal number seven would 
be successful. 

Eleanor {drazving away in dismay). Proposal 
number seven ! But Randolph ! 

Miner {anxiously) . Yes, dear. 

Eleanor. But you didn't propose. 

Miner {also dismayed). That's so, I didn't. 



curtain 



Unusually Good Entertainments 

Read One or More of These Before Deciding on 
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GRADUATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. 

An Entertainment in Two Acts, by Ward Macauley. For six 
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PHILADELPHIA 



Unusually Good Entertainments 

Read One or More of These Before Deciding on 
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A SURPRISE PARTY AT BRINKLEY'S. An En- 
tertainment in One Scene, by Ward Macauley. Seven male and 
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BARGAIN DAY AT BLOOMSTEIN'S. A Farcical 
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SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank 
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HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy 
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